Whelp. You cracked it. Now we're gonna have to move the whole d*** forbidden city.

White Maple Lane – Field Day: 4. Dear Diary

Diary Entry, Friday, September 15

Madge called- asked if I had anything to do with those cats on her driveway. Idiot husband in background.

Don’t care if someone found her secret adopted kid, stuffed it with sawdust– she’s not getting my baseball cards for that auction. Her husband just wants that Mantle- they don’t care about the church roof.

Saw the Tudeschi kids steal the plastic pool from Carol’s yard. She didn’t notice- also saw her sneak around to the Sloanes’. Stayed until 3:30 in the morning. Michael S. out of town. Wonder what the church would think about that?

Found the field day flyer. My name misspelled. Didn’t realize hair plugs for Father Williams constituted medical relief.

Garbage man stole bicycle. Reported anonymously.

Binoculars got smudged again. Do ghosts have fingerprints?

New horseshoe arrived. Out of balance. Sent back to Phil (with note this time).

New poem: Hatred boils within — house of haunts lived in — no one can escape.

New Register columnist forgot apostrophe in “it’s”. Reported anonymously.

Strange cloud configuration: manatees circling a split-rail fencepost. Rained later. Coincidence?

Current Record: 37

Day/10: 2.7



Discover more from WJM Fiction

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

You just read:

White Maple Lane – Field Day: 4. Dear Diary

Odds are…

Whatever you’re reading is indicative of the other things on here. We welcome the dystopian sharing of data below, in exchange for an occasional window into our soul.

← Back

Thank you for your response. ✨